


I hate to leave

by allgoodlions



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/F, I'm so sorry, feeding the angst machine, i am come to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4509567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allgoodlions/pseuds/allgoodlions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The black’s folding over and around and it’s curtains now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I hate to leave

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to [_don't go_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4504038)

Carmilla didn’t think it’d be this bad.

The arrowhead grates against bone, and every small movement is a fresh, awful education: dying hurts. And really, she ought to know. She’s done enough killing over the years. Just didn’t think –

And that was the problem. She didn’t _think_ ; she never did. Acting on reckless impulse was so much easier than thinking. A kind of comforting, don’t-give-a-damn armor, and all the consequences slid right off her back.

That’s better, she thinks. Better than caring. And better than the hollow disappointment that follows after.

She’d been so sick of it. Sick of being paraded around like some hero, or protector, or champion; all of the things she was not. All she’d ever wanted was to protect _Laura_ , but good lord was that difficult. Always in the middle of a cause. Always fighting. And that was kind of what Carmilla loved about her. She didn’t want Laura to change. That tiny spitfire never-back-down attitude of hers had – had kindled something inside Carmilla. It burned fierce and hot, and, yes, she would have died for Laura.

Now, she’s dying _because_ of Laura.

Kind of.

But it’s primarily her own fault, she knows that.

She’s dimly aware of Mattie’s arms supporting her, half dragging, half carrying her. Her older sister’s keeping up a soft, furious litany: “Don’t you dare die on me, you little monster. Hold on, now. We’re close. We’re going to …”

But Carmilla is kind of unspooling, heavier and lighter all at once. Her bones are lead and her tongue is thick and her head feels too much for her neck. Her eyelids are heaviest of all. She feels – tethered by a thread. It won’t take much at all for the thread to snap and then she’ll just sort of float away and be nothing and that feels almost okay.

They’re through a doorway and there’s someone else supporting her. She makes it to a – chair… maybe a chair, anyway. It’s an uncertain kind of solidity that vanishes the moment Mattie withdraws her supporting hands. Carmilla slithers to the carpet, and there are voices around her, only they’re far off. She feels a thousand miles away and doesn’t see the point in coming back.

So she floats on the end of her kite string, bobbing along the pitch and swell of a floor that doesn’t feel quite real beneath her. Something rests against her chest, a kind of weight that anchors her, if only just. No, not just resting. Pressing. Hard. The arrowhead twists and digs under the pressure, and the scraping pain is enough to reel her back into semi consciousness. God, why can’t everybody just leave her be? She just wants –

Laura. Laura’s face is above hers. Isn’t it?

Carmilla squints, willing the blurry face into focus. There’s a kind of fog over her eyes, kind of black at the edges.

She – wants it to be Laura.

And, as if her thought brings it into being, there’s a voice to go with the face, and it _is_ Laura. Of course, it is.

And Carmilla folds her paper wings and hurtles out of the fog to that voice. It’s faintly irritated, worried and all high-pitched the way it is when Laura’s really scared. All at once, Carmilla wishes she was anywhere else. She doesn’t want Laura to have to see this.

And so Carmilla says _sorry_ , which is what she’s wanted to say for a long time now.

There’s a startled intake of breath, and Laura’s fingers – it must be her hand on Carmilla’s chest – dig into her. The arrowhead chews a fresh I-told-you-so agony into her, and Carmilla groans through clenched teeth. But she is here and alert and she realizes she’s bleeding onto one of Maman’s Persian rugs.

Laura’s hair hangs down, a wash of gold curtaining her face, and Carmilla thinks that if she’s gotta go, maybe this isn’t so bad.

“Shut up,” Laura snaps, which makes Carmilla smile a little. “Don’t talk.”

Don’t talk. She thinks that sentiment is so strange. Don’t talk. Why not?

_Don’t know why people say that._ Her mind spirals off in a thousand directions. There are all those movies where the lines are always ‘don’t speak’ or ‘save your strength’. Save it for what?

She’s been speaking, and she hardly knows it. “I just think,” and it’s a struggle to collect her spiral thoughts. “If you’re dying …” yes, this hurts enough to be dying. “That’s when you … have to say …” say everything; there are a thousand things she’s always wanted to say, and _sorry_ is only one of them. “Say that you – ” she’s messing this up, but then she always makes a mess of things. “That I…“

The black’s folding over and around and it’s curtains now.

_This_ , she thinks. _You save your strength for this._

Gotta say it.

_I hate to leave_.

A faint pain prickles her lips, but it’s so far out of reach. A tiny spark swelling and dying.

_Laura._

_.._

_I .._

**Author's Note:**

> I -- had some technical difficulties here, stemming from the fact that I have actually no idea how ao3 works. Anyway, this is a companion to a prior work entitled [_don't go_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4504038), which is the same scenario from Laura's perspective.
> 
> I didn't run this by my birb nerd editor before hand, but I know I should have. It's mostly an experiment to see what I can do with an hour or two of quick writing. So here, enjoy the angst and take comfort in the fact that it'll all be negated and resolved by tomorrow evening.
> 
> And, you know, thanks to _Serenity_ for the excellent and heartbreaking line. You know the one.


End file.
